


all the stars in texas

by brattyloser



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bandits & Outlaws, Car Chases, Guns, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Robbery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 04:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1675007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brattyloser/pseuds/brattyloser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael is head over heels in love while Ray is just enjoying the thrill of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the stars in texas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [somebodytoldme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebodytoldme/gifts).



It’s a dry and dusty night. The blazing sun took the heat with it when it finally dipped below the horizon, and the heavy mugginess that plagued the daylight hours seeped away into a desert chill. They rode into this town mere hours ago. The sun was still hanging in the bright open sky and people had waved and smiled from dusty storefronts. This place is as quiet now as it was then; it’s blanketed in a sleepy atmosphere that speaks of countless lazy Sunday afternoons. It’s ideal. Cute. But Michael has seen enough cute towns, ridden over enough sandy borders, to know that even desert townships have a pretty penny tucked away somewhere.

Michael’s breath forms white clouds in the cool air as he walks across the quiet street. He keeps his shoulders huddled up around his ears and his hands stuffed in his pockets. Icy metal, colder than the night air nipping at his cheeks, settles comfortably against his fingers. He pulls a mask from the pocket that doesn’t conceal a gun and slips it over his face. When he hops up on the curb just outside the small bank, he chances one last look across the street.

Low buildings cast shadows that coil and shy away from the wavering brightness of the streetlights. A single car with a stolen license plate idles under one of the flickering streetlights, gray exhaust swirling around the tailpipe. The headlights flash twice and Michael knows that the driver is grinning at him from behind the foggy windshield.

It’s now or never. Michael spins on his toes and strides towards the door, adrenaline already spiking his anxiety laced veins. This little town is in for a wakeup call.

The sound of the bell over the door is muffled by Michael’s loud voice.

“Alright hands in the air,” he pulls the pistol from his pocket and points it directly at the middle-aged man behind the counter, “Put them up where I can see them. This is a hold up.”

It’s an unnecessary statement, he’s pretty sure that they would have figured it out without the verbal assist, but Michael likes to be forthright. The man with the gun barrel in his face looks from Michael to the gun and then back to Michael. Patience is a virtue and Michael used to go to church, so instead of blowing the man’s brains out, he gives him a second chance to comply.

“You heard me, old man: hands where I can see them.” Michael flicks the barrel of the gun towards the ceiling to illustrate his point.

The man does as he’s told and raises his hands over his head. His fingers are slender and Michael can’t tell if they’re calloused or not, but he can see them shake slightly in the yellow lighting. Good. Fear is good. Michael can work with fear so long as it doesn’t devolve into complete panic. Panic means unpredictability and unpredictability means people taking risks that Michael would rather not deal with.

Michael takes this chance to look over at the remaining employees behind the counter. The bank is all but deserted; the only people left are a beefy guy who looks to be in his twenties and a young woman around the same age.

Michael nods at the young man, “You. Big boy. Do me a favor and clean out the drawers, will ya?”

Big Boy’s eyes flicker to his desk before he looks back up at Michael. There must be a silent alarm on the underside of the teller counters. Michael starts a countdown in his head and shifts the gun so it’s pointing at the younger man.

“Don’t be a hero, kid. Just collect the cash and hand it over. Then I’m out of your hair forever.”

Everything runs smoothly after that and Michael can only attest it to the fact that the police are on their way. As Big Boy stuffs bills in a bag, Michael directs the other two tellers to lie on the floor. The old man shoots him a dirty look, but so long as he’s not shooting off his mouth, Michael doesn’t care. The woman is the one who concerns him. She’s shaking all over and looks about ready to burst into tears at any moment. Michael briefly wonders how long she’s been working here. He makes her and the man lie on their stomachs so he doesn’t have to look at her trembling bottom lip anymore. Her red-rimmed eyes set something off in Michael’s gut and now he’s irritated. He tells Big Boy to hurry up.

Once he has a satisfactory amount of cash – have to be careful not to take more than you can carry – Michael takes the bag from Big Boy and orders him to join his coworkers on the floor. They make a pretty picture, the three tellers splayed out on the floor with their faces pressed to the linoleum tile. Then police sirens break the silence of the night and Michael’s appreciation of cooperating victims is rudely cut short.

He bids the tellers adieu with a curt salute that none of them can see and takes off running. The car with the stolen license plate pulls up to the front of the bank with squealing tires and the engine revved. Michael bursts through the front door, cash in hand. He slides over the hood of the car and clambers into the passenger seat just as the red and blue lights round the corner. Michael slams the door shut and looks over at the driver. The flashing lights dance across the dashboard and the wailing sirens slice through the quiet night.

“Floor it, Ray,” Michael says.

Ray’s eyes light up and Michael isn’t sure if that’s from the police cars or the adrenaline, but it doesn’t matter because Michael’s got a lap full of cash and the cops are right on their tail. Ray punches the gas and the engine roars, nearly drowning out the wail of the police sirens. The smell of burning rubber fills Michael’s lungs as they take off into the night.

He reaches into the backseat and fumbles around in the dark. Ray blows through an intersection and the flashing lights look closer than ever. The sound of shooting really adds to a car chase, Michael muses as their back window shatters to a stray of bullets.

“Fuck!” Ray nearly hits the brakes, but, luckily, this isn’t the first shootout he's been a part of. Their first shootout together went way worse than this. Ray takes a sharp left turn down a street that Michael doesn’t quite catch the name of as he starts fussing over the sound of sirens and shooting, “Y’know, I could really use some help here, Michael.”

Michael feels his fingers wrap around the butt of the assault rifle in the back seat.

“Jesus, I’m working on it, okay?”

The back window is already shot out, so there’s no real reason to open the windows or sunroof. Michael checks to make sure the gun is loaded, takes aim, and fires. He riddles the windshield of the car closest to them and as it rolls to a stop, he reloads.

Ray takes a hard turn to the right and Michael almost tumbles into the driver’s seat. The road they’ve turned onto is wide enough for two of the cop cars to drive side by side and trying to shoot out two cars at once is really fucking difficult when you have little to no cover.

The car to Michael’s right swerves out of control when its front tires blow out. It crashes right into a newspaper stand. Michael chances a glance at the driver’s seat and sees Ray driving with one hand on the wheel and the other out the window as he blindly shoots at the assholes tailing them.

Rules of the road don’t matter during high speed chases and Michael is grateful for that because Ray’s driving still isn’t the best. It’s better than it was months ago, sure, but when they take a corner on two wheels and nearly hit a stop sign while doing so, Michael makes a mental note to try and avoid the police a little better next time. Stealing a load of cash means nothing if you die before you get the chance to spend it.

That said, Michael would really feel more comfortable if Ray kept both hands on the steering wheel.

“Goddammit, Ray, focus on driving and leave the shooting to me!” Ray’s head snaps to look at Michael and the cocky look on his face let’s Michael know that he’s about say something smart when they almost crash into a fire hydrant. It’s Michael’s turn to fuss now, “Fucking – keep your eyes on the road!”

Ray laughs as he drives onto the sidewalk. He’s laughing like he can’t believe they’re getting away with this once again and his laughter is the best thing Michael can possibly hope to hear in any lifetime. It’s chesty and obnoxious and Michael revels in the way he nearly chokes on it as they drop off the curb and run a red light.

“You really don’t think we should stop?” Michael asks when they fly over a small hill that almost sends him, his gun, and the bag of cash into the backseat. The suspension on this ride is all but shot. They’re going to have to steal another one soon anyway.

Ray looks over at Michael and the way the red and blue lights dance across his face does things to Michael’s insides.

“One more time,” Ray says with a smile that Michael fell in love with ages ago. “Let’s hit ‘em one more time.”

And Michael can never say no to that.

They somehow manage to outrun the cops thanks to Ray’s reckless driving, so maybe the fact that he doesn’t have his license is somehow a blessing in disguise. They speed over the border and into the open desert, flickering streetlights shrinking into an ordinary skyline in the rearview window.

Michael kicks his feet up on the dashboard and opens the bag of cash. Some of the bills are crisp and straight while others are soft and wrinkled beyond recognition. Michael smooths each bill out as he counts. He fans out a few and waves them in front of his face as he flutters his eyelashes at Ray, making him laugh and almost swerve off into a ditch.

Two thousand four hundred and fifty five dollars. It isn’t their best haul, but it is two thousand four hundred and fifty five more bucks than they had this morning. Michael takes his money fan and runs the bills under his nose as he listens to Ray’s subsiding giggles. He always did like the smell of money. Smells like security.

The stars litter the clear sky overhead and the headlights of their stolen car illuminate the desert sand in front of them. Michael doesn’t know how long they’re going to ride tonight, if they’ll even check into a motel and catch a few hours of sleep before setting up for another heist, so he puts the bills away and leans his head against the window. As his eyelids slide shut and he drifts off for what may only be a few minutes, Michael listens to Ray aimlessly hum a tune with the comforting scent of cold hard cash still in his nostrils.

They hit up another small town tucked away in desert sands three nights later. They haven’t even burned through all their money from the previous heist, but Ray is so damn eager about this one that Michael can’t help but comply.

“It’s the last one,” Ray promises and Michael has heard that one before, “Just one more hit, but I don’t wanna just sit in the car this time.”

Now, Michael will do anything for Ray, hell, he’s already committed a few felonies for the guy, but this is one request that sends a chill down his spine. His apprehension goes ignored however, and somehow Ray, with his big brown eyes and the most dangerous pout this side of the Mississippi, ends up tagging behind Michael as he enters a small bank nestled between a post office and abandoned lot. Ray is right on Michael’s heels, his ski mask is pulled over his face, and he’s so eager to be doing this.

There are only two tellers this time, a man and a woman who both look to be in their forties. Michael opens his mouth, ready to get this show on the road before someone tips the cops off, but Ray cuts in.

“Let’s tie them up.”

Michael closes his mouth, then opens it, before shutting it again with a click. He looks at Ray and bites back a confused laugh,

“What?”

“Let’s tie them up,” Ray repeats as he holds up a nylon rope that they had found in the trunk of their newest stolen vehicle. The previous owner had been the outdoorsy type. Michael had never seen so much sunscreen and bug spray in a person’s glove compartment before.

He decides to make a quick decision because they really can’t waste time arguing.

“Okay, fine, but let me tie the knots,” Michael says as he pulls out his gun and points it at the tellers. He snaps at the couple to put their hands in the air.

Ray loops the rope over his shoulder and mutters under his breath, “Yeah, sure thing Mr. Boy Scout. Gonna sell them some popcorn while you’re at it?”

Michael fails to keep the smile off his face and he can only hope that it looks sinister to their victims. Once. He had told Ray once that he had a brief stint as a Boy Scout and Ray brought it up every chance he got. Michael joked that Ray was just jealous that Michael had gotten to have an actual childhood, but that joke then quickly backfired and resulted in a weeklong spree just so Ray would accept his apology.

Ray watches Michael bark orders and continues to add in his own two cents. While Michael tightens the nylon rope around their ankles and wrists, Ray starts up a conversation with one of the tellers and waves his gun around like it doesn’t have the potential to kill a man. Michael checks and double checks his knots before moving on to the money.

As Michael cleans out the registers, Ray peers over his shoulder and bounces on the heels of his feet. Michael tries to keep his gloved hands steady because Ray is really throwing off his groove. He loves Ray, he really does, but they’ve never done this together and it’s nerve-wracking. The car is sitting out front and Michael forgot to start counting. He doesn’t even know if this bank has a panic button.

Michael pulls up the hem of his mask enough to expose his mouth and tries to diffuse the situation and regain a sense of control.

“Hey, babe, why don’t you go start the car?”

He glances over his shoulder and sees Ray staring at him with those big brown eyes. Shit. Ray’s not an idiot. He knows what Michael’s ‘you’re being annoying go away’ voice sounds like. Going to have to go about this a little differently.

Michael flips up the hem of Ray’s mask and gives him a kiss. It’s forceful and heavy with promises of cheap motel rooms and cheaper lube. Ray grunts in the affirmative, sending a small tremor through Michael’s lips, and when they pull away, Michael swears that he might go blind from that smile one of these days. When Ray turns to leave, Michael gives him a firm smack on the ass.

“‘Atta boy.”

Michael wraps up, stuffing the bag full of cash, and is out of there in record time. The police are nowhere to be seen as Ray peels rubber and drives away from the scene of the crime and Michael wonders if they had anything to be worried about in the first place. He doesn’t entertain the thought for long, because who cares so long as they get in and get out in one piece, and leans over to kiss Ray on the cheek.

“You did good in there,” Michael says as he goes about counting the money, “A little excited, but the tying them up idea was cute.”

Ray swerves to avoid hitting a cactus and drums his fingers on the steering wheel, “Where to now?”

Michael shrugs. They have to skip town obviously, they always do, but Michael doesn’t care what they do so long as they’re together. He would settle down and start a family if that’s what Ray wanted, it’s what Michael wants if he’s being honest, but Ray finds a life of crime so much sweeter than a life of fatherhood. Michael can’t really blame him for that one.

They drive for hours, over sand dunes and desert pavement, before checking into a motel. It’s a low-key place that’s grimy and rundown, but they’ve stayed at worse. All that matters is that the AC works and there’s a bed big enough for two. The mattress is old and worn, but it doesn’t squeak when Ray pushes Michael down onto it. When Ray leans down for a kiss, Michael accepts it with open arms and curls his fingers in Ray’s hair.

They start out slow. Michael sucks on Ray’s bottom lip while Ray runs his hands over Michael’s body, feeling the dips and curves through the fabric of his clothes. Michael knows that Ray has memorized his body by now, memorized the way his fingers feel running over sticky skin and fading scars, but he can’t help but shiver at his light touch anyway. Ray giggles and, with their bodies pressed this close together, Michael can feel the vibrations in his chest.

Michael drags his hands from Ray’s hair and puts them on either side of his face to deepen the kiss. Ray’s giggles melt into a content hum that makes Michael’s heart flutter. He runs his tongue along Ray’s swollen bottom lip and Ray opens his mouth to let him in. Their tongues swirl around each other in a practiced dance as they relish in the familiarity of one another’s mouths. They’ve done this so many times before and the casual energy between them now is a noticeable difference from how their heist a few days ago ended, all high energy and buzzing excitement.

Ray reaches down and slips his hand between them and works to undo Michael’s pants. Michael moves to tug off Ray’s shirt. They pull away for a brief moment as the fabric gets between them and Michael tosses the shirt across the room. Ray gives Michael a quick peck on the lips before moving down to suck the sensitive spot just below his jaw. Michael lets his eyes flutter shut and revels in the sensation.

Ray is pretty talented with that mouth of his when he isn’t being a smartass. He sucks and nips at Michael’s throat until Michael can’t take it anymore and fails to fight down a throaty moan. To be fair, it’s more of a whine than a moan and Michael rocks his hips up into Ray as he tries to satisfy the pressure in his jeans. Ray stops and the heat of his mouth is still pressed to Michael’s skin when he feels Ray’s lips twitch into a smile. Ray doesn’t even have to say a goddamn word, but Michael knows what he’s thinking. Ray is really fucking proud of himself and, oh, Michael is definitely going to take this as a challenge.

Michael grabs Ray’s hips and rolls them over so that he’s on top. Ray squeaks in surprise at the position change and it’s Michael’s turn to smirk. Michael takes a moment to look at Ray lying beneath him. Ray’s face is flushed and his smug smile is back, but Michael knows how to deal with that. There are two things in life Michael prides himself in: committing armed robbery and making Ray fall apart at the seams.

He trails kisses along Ray’s throat and down his newly exposed chest. Michael can hear Ray’s breath catch in his throat and pictures the look on his face as he strokes the bulge in Ray’s pants. Michael rubs Ray’s growing erection through the fabric and takes one of his nipples in his mouth. He swirls his tongue and laps and sucks and Ray’s trying so hard not to moan, Michael just knows it, because the walls are paper thin and they should really probably lay low for the next few days.

When Ray’s right on the edge, just on the verge of becoming a keening, yielding mess under Michael’s touch, Michael pulls away. He leans back and looks down at his handiwork. Ray’s eyes are half lidded. His chest is heaving and his dick is straining against his pants and Michael must truly be in love because there is no situation where he doesn’t find Ray absolutely stunning. Michael takes off his own shirt and works on removing his pants while muttering platitudes to the man writhing beneath him.

“You did so good tonight, babe. Fucking perfect. Maybe I should take you out with me more often, huh?”

Ray is either turned on by the affirmations or desperately missing Michael’s touch and begins rubbing himself through his pants. Michael finishes undressing and continues talking as he watches Ray touch himself.

“4k, babe. 4 fucking k. That’s how much we scored tonight and you know what we’re gonna do with it?”

Ray moans and tries to quiet himself by biting his knuckles. Eyes screwed shut, Ray shakes his head. Michael chuckles and leans forward to place a kiss on Ray’s stomach. Ray’s hand stills but he doesn’t move it off of his erection as Michael nips and bites his way to the hem of his pants.

“We’re gonna spend it,” Michael says as he nudges Ray’s hand out of the way and undoes his button, “I’m going to buy you everything you want – everything you’ve ever fucking wanted.” He slowly unzips the zipper and kisses the outline of Ray’s dick through the fabric, “Everything you ever fucking deserved.”

Michael tugs off Ray’s pants and underwear until they join his clothes somewhere on the dingy floor of the motel room. He climbs astride Ray’s lap, knees on either side of his hips with the heat of Ray’s erection pressing against his. Ray makes a move like he’s going to touch himself again, but Michael grabs his wrist.

“How does that sound, huh?” Michael lifts Ray’s hand to his lips and gently kisses his knuckles. Ray still has his other hand shoved in his mouth, eyes still shut, and Michael knows he’s trying so hard to keep quiet. Michael reaches down to graze his fingers over Ray’s twitching cock. The tip is already shimmering with precum. “Sounds good, right? Me spoiling you. Bet that sounds real fucking good.”

Michael rubs his thumb over Ray’s slit and keeps pressing kisses along the back of Ray’s hand. He carefully watches Ray’s face as he takes his fist out of his mouth. His lips are swollen and red and covered with spit, but when he nods ever so slightly Michael knows that that’s a sign to keep going.

He looks down at their dicks pressed flush together and the heat and intimacy of it all is making it hard for Michael to think straight. He’s still rubbing the head of Ray’s throbbing cock and ignoring his own, rock hard and dripping with precum. Michael rolls his hips forward. The friction sends a shiver up his spine and he hears Ray gasp.

Michael takes both of their cocks in his hand now and smears their precum together as he starts pumping. He does it slowly and places one last kiss to the back of Ray’s hand. Michael leans forward and puts Ray’s hand over his head. He brushes their noses together, still lazily stroking their dicks. Ray’s eyes flutter open. His gaze is unfocused. Michael smiles and kisses his nose.

“Gimme the other one,” Michael says.

Ray complies and puts his spit-slicked, bite-marked hand over his head. Michael takes both of Ray’s wrists in hand and kisses him on the mouth to show his appreciation. With Ray’s wrists in one hand and their dicks in the other, Michael lets the kiss linger. They spend a time reveling in the heat of one another’s mouths before Michael moves down to suck at Ray’s throat. He continues to pump at a leisurely place and he knows it’s driving Ray over the edge, but Michael is waiting. Patience is a virtue after all, and Michael did used to go to church.

Ray, on the other hand, has always been the impatient type. He bucks his hips up and tries to get more friction, but Michael growls in the back of his throat. Ray’s hips drop back on the mattress and he whines.

That’s not exactly what Michael was waiting for but it will have to do. He increases the pace, pumping and stroking both of them while working the sensitive spot of skin between his teeth. When Ray rolls his hips up this time, Michael doesn’t growl. Instead, he moves back over Ray’s mouth and darts his tongue between his lips. Their kissing becomes sloppier and Ray’s breathing is stilted and Michael can practically count down the seconds until he hears what he’s been waiting for. Michael tightens his grip on Ray’s wrists and grinds his hips down.

Ray moans. Michael can taste it in his mouth and feel it in his chest and he doesn’t have to say a word for Ray to know that he’s really fucking proud of himself right now. Michael drinks that first moan down. He relishes it and keeps pumping their cocks with hard, fast tugs that rock the bed.

Ray moans again. And again. He’s a loud, keening mess and suddenly it’s like the paper thin walls don’t matter anymore. The fact that they’re probably wanted criminals and should be keeping a low profile simply isn’t important as Michael buries his face into the crook of Ray’s neck and jerks them both off in a dingy motel room in the middle of the desert.

Ray cums first. Michael feels the warm discharge spill over his hand as Ray practically screams in his ear. He doesn’t stop stroking until his own orgasm hits him. He has to bite down on Ray’s shoulder to stop himself from crying out. Ray doesn’t seem to like that at all and yelps. He struggles to pull his wrists out of Michael’s grasp, so Michael let’s go and sits up.

He’s still trying to catch his breath as he looks down at Ray. Ray’s eyes are glassy, but he is definitely glaring at Michael right now.

“No,” Ray says. It’s not very threatening when his face is flushed and he looks thoroughly sated by his orgasm. Ray points a steady finger at Michael and his frown looks more like a pout than anything. “We can rob stores and have car chases with the police and shit, but don’t do that.”

Michael raises his hands in the air, “Okay, sorry.” He really didn’t mean to do that. He had gotten caught up in the moment.

“No,” Ray says again, a little more firmly this time.

“Dude,” Michael runs a hand through his hair and drops the other one in his lap, “I heard you the first time. Sorry.”

Ray’s frown-pout dissolves into a smile almost instantly. Michael thinks this means that his apology is accepted, but when Ray starts giggling, he has a distinct feeling that he’s missing something here.

“Gross,” Ray says between giggles. He can’t get a hold of himself and has to bury his face in his hands.

“What?”

Michael looks around for some sort of clue as to what Ray’s losing his shit over. Then he catches his reflection in the mirror above the dresser across the room. His face and shoulders are still red and there are a few darkening spots along his throat. That part’s normal. It’s his hair that’s throwing the whole look off. One side of his hair is sticking straight up, curls in a sticky disarray. Michael looks down at the hand that he ran through his hair seconds ago and remembers the mess on his and Ray’s stomachs.

“Oh, fuck. Gross,” Michael reiterates Ray’s earlier statement and climbs off the bed. He pads across the grungy carpet to get a better look at the mess he made in his auburn curls. He was definitely going to have to take a shower.

Ray seems to be one step ahead as he gets off the bed and stands with shaky knees, “C’mon, let’s clean up. Maybe we can sleep on our pile of cash later.”

Michael scoffs as he follows Ray to the bathroom, “Yeah, in your dreams, Ray.”

After they shower – which includes a lot more soapy kisses than any shower has a right to – they plop down on the bed sans pile of cash. Ray curls into Michael’s arms and rests his head on his bare chest. Michael imagines that Ray’s listening to his heartbeat. He runs idle fingers through Ray’s damp hair.

“Did you mean what you said? About spending the money?” Ray’s question is muffled with his face pressed against Michael’s skin.

Michael shifts to get comfortable and tightens his hold around Ray, “Yeah, of course. You deserve it. Plus, it’s nice to have a partner in crime. Riding solo can get pretty fucking lonely.”

Ray chuckles. Michael is being serious though; he thinks that Ray knows that he’s serious, but he doesn’t feel like asking. Committing crime can only be so satisfying when you’re on your own. Michael lets his thoughts drift back to days of robbing gas stations and franticly shooting witnesses in the face. Ray must be thinking about the past too, because he eventually breaks the silence.

“You remember how we first met?”

Michael stops running his hands through Ray’s hair. He buries his nose in the wet locks and inhales the scent of generic motel shampoo.

“How could I forget? You’re still the prettiest thing I ever stole, Ray.”

Ray hums and Michael knows what question is coming next. It the same question Ray asks whenever the topic of his former life comes up.

“You think they ever found his body?”

“Dunno,” Michael answers truthfully. When he thinks back to the east coast and the night when he fucked up robbing a hole-in-the-wall convenience store, he shrugs. “What’s it matter anyway? You’re miles from home now. I don’t even remember what I was doing that close to the coast in the first place.”

He had gotten lost. That’s how he ended up that close to the coast. He thought about paying his parents one last visit before he ducked out of their lives forever, but he was always pretty shitty with directions. Then he saw a little store in a quiet neighborhood that he was never planning on visiting again and the urge to rob it made his skin itch. How was he supposed to know that the drunkard behind the counter had a son?

“Maybe it was destiny,” Ray joked.

“Do you believe in destiny?”

Michael thinks back to the first time he saw Ray in an ill-fitting shirt and bruises all over. He remembers feeling relieved that he shot first and asked questions later. He remembers that malnourished kid with the sunken eyes, standing in a puddle of his father’s blood and asking Michael if he could tag along. When Michael said yes, Ray smiled and his eyes flickered like stars lighting the Texan night sky.

Michael isn’t sure he believes in destiny himself. If destiny exists, it sure does have a fucked up sense of humor.

Ray draws shapes across Michael’s chest and his breath is even and warm on his skin, “I believe in living each day like it’s our last.”

Michael can live with that answer. He can grant Ray that sort of lifestyle. They’re six thousand dollars richer than they were a week ago with nothing but desert sand between them and their next target.

It’s an arid night and as Michael drifts off to sleep, he thinks about the man curled up in his arms. Michael will do anything for Ray. He’s already spilled blood for him. He’s stolen more cars than there are weeks in a year. He’s pointed loaded guns into countless faces and screamed orders to put money in a bag.

Michael will try to pluck the stars from the night sky and watch Ray’s eyes sparkle with stardust if he can. All Ray has to do is ask.


End file.
